Dealbreaker
by Tyranusfan
Summary: When Lucifer unveils a new plan to make Sam say YES, Dean is forced to make a decision that could change everything. Rated T. Set late Season 5. No spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

_Special thanks to geminigrl11 for being a wonderful beta. _

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**Deal Breaker**

Dean fell into a trap outside of Mason City, Iowa. Literally.

He and Sam had seen a report of a mauling, something that had left the remains of a shredded couple at the outskirts of the city, and the signs pointed to a werewolf. Sam had pinned down the apparent lycan's hunting ground---an old city park---within a day, and they were out searching right after dinner.

Falling into a trapping pit had been the last thing on Dean's mind as he searched the park. Werewolves didn't snare their prey---there wasn't enough thought in their actions, just bloodthirsty instinct---and the two people who appeared above him weren't werewolves.

The black eyes were a dead giveaway.

Dean didn't fear demons, not anymore. He'd spent thirty years being tortured by them, and another ten learning to be like them. No, he didn't fear them. He hated them. Dean would exterminate every last one of them, given half a chance.

He did fear what they could do to his loved ones. Sam, Bobby, Cas. Not to mention innocent bystanders. Dean understood demons, more than any human, and he knew how cruel they could be. He'd never wish their depravity on anyone.

But, these two demons made him afraid. Tied to a bench in a run-down factory near the park, he feared them. Because it wasn't him they'd really wanted to trap.

"He's getting closer," the possessed woman purred, sniffing the air. "Can you feel it? So much power, just below the surface. It makes the air vibrate when he's close."

"Sam'll never come here," Dean snarled, hoping to bluff them. "He's not that stupid."

"Sure he is," the male answered from his perch by the door. "Little Sammy will never stand by and let you get snatched. He'll come."

"If he does," Dean smirked, feeling confident, despite the danger of them grabbing his brother, too. "You two will wish he hadn't."

The woman laughed, rising suddenly and planting herself in Dean's lap. He grimaced at where her hands went. _Filthy bitch_.

"Oh, poor Dean-o. Don't know, do you?"

Dean wouldn't give her the satisfaction of answering.

"How long did you think our Master would wait? Lucifer's sent the Hellhounds out after little Sammy. Gave them his scent."

His blood turned to ice at that. Hellhounds didn't play fetch. They had one mission and one only: to drag people to Hell. "You're lying. Lucifer needs Sam. He wouldn't risk sending them after him."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his cheek. "Lucifer just needs the _vessel_, Dean-o, not Sam. Sam doesn't want to play ball? That's fine. A year in the Pit will do him some good."

Dean didn't answer, but his poker face slipped. If Sam was captured---

"Of course, it's only a year…up here. You know all about how time works downstairs, don't you, cutie? Thirty years and you were ready to be one of us. How long do you think Sammy will last? After a _hundred_ years or so, what do you think Sam will do if all it takes to get off of the rack is to say _yes_?"

_No_. Dean knew she wasn't lying. They were going to--- _Please, Sammy, don't come after me…._

A crash outside was all he needed to hear to know his prayer had been ignored. As usual.

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Dean hadn't fussed this hard over him in months. "Dude! It's just a scratch."

Sam glanced at his suddenly over-protective sibling and tried to pull away, but Dean's grip on his bicep was like a vice. "Scratch, hell, Sam. This needs stitches."

"I know. I can---"

"Hold still."

Sam sighed. Relenting, he rested against the sink and let Dean treat the knife wound his upper arm. He'd rarely seen demons carrying blades---though it wasn't unheard of---but he supposed with Castiel on Team Free Will, the bad guys were changing their tactics. He focused on his brother, whom besides irrationally acting like Sam had had some brush with death hadn't said anything about his abduction.

Or the fact that the werewolf hunt had apparently been a setup.

"You okay?"

Dean grunted. "You're the one bleeding."

"Nah, it's just a scratch---" Sam began, turning to get a look at the cut himself. He flinched when Dean jerked his arm straight, grip tightening so much Sam figured it would bruise.

"Damn it! Will you just let me fix this, Sammy?" Dean glanced at him, then went back to his work.

Sam was too surprised to speak for a moment. His brother wasn't angry...the tone of voice was all wrong. "Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked, carefully keeping still.

"Nothing. It's only fair, Sammy. You saved my ass back there."

Sam frowned. "We don't keep score on that stuff."

"I know." Dean's expression---and grip---softened a little and he smiled faintly. "Besides, you act like I never do this sort of thing."

"Sure, you do, it's just...the last few mon---" Sam broke off and looked away, instantly regretting it. He shouldn't have put that thought to words.

Dean looked up at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before he went back to work. The hand restraining Sam squeezed gently. "Yeah, well...maybe I've been stupid for a while."

Sam just watched Dean work after that, kicking himself for what he'd started to say. Dean, for his, part, was extra careful with the stitches, and didn't even squeeze the bandage intentionally too tight when he was done.

Something was very wrong.

00000

_Damn it, damn it, damn it! _

Dean kicked a can across the parking lot. He wondered idly how long he could stall out there, supposedly getting ice for Sam's shoulder.

The pampering was sending up all kinds of red flags for Sam, but Dean was having trouble controlling himself. _Hellhounds_... This was beyond _bad_. He hadn't said anything to his brother, and frankly he didn't want to, since he didn't know how Sam would react.

The kid had practically salivated when he'd first learned that Anna wanted to kill him and scatter him all over the universe. He was terrified of Lucifer---of saying "yes" to Lucifer---a situation made worse by his apparently growing depression. His self-worth seemed to be at a record low ever since that hunt in the mental hospital. _Freakin' wraith_. Sam's reaction to Dean earlier in the room was another example.

Dean wasn't sure which felt worse, that he had freaked Sam out with his concern in general or that the real reason was that Sam didn't think Dean cared that much about him anymore. Granted, maybe some might think that Dean hadn't done a great job showing Sam otherwise, but he just didn't know what to say. He never knew what to say. Sam was supposed to just _get _it. That was the way they'd always done things. Sammy was great at reading him.

He never knew---had never known---what to do when the kid couldn't.

"You know."

Dean spun around at the sound of Castiel's voice. He slammed into the ice machine hard enough to move it an inch. "Jesus, Cas!"

The angel stared at him, silent and grim-faced. It took a moment for his words to sink in.

_You know_....

"Did _you_?" Dean asked, startled energy giving way to suspicion and anger.

"For a few days, now," Cas answered blandly, glancing up and down the covered walkway outside the motel.

"And when were you planning on saying something to me?"

"I didn't want to worry you, or Sam especially, given his...state of mind the past few months. And the last few days were hectic, with your abduction. Besides, I haven't been able to confirm it."

"What state of mind? Sam's fine." Dean shot back, focusing only on the first part. The way Cas just looked at him, he could tell the angel didn't believe that lie any more than he did. Dean changed the subject. "And I _have _confirmed it. We have to stop those hounds."

"That doesn't seem possible," Castiel said with a grimace. "The only reason they haven't already found him already is because of the Enochian symbols. That might be enough for a while, but all we can do is be more careful. Try to hold them off. You should add goofer dust to your usual protections from now on."

Dean shook his head. "Sam'll notice that."

Castiel frowned. "You didn't tell him?"

Turning back to the ice machine, Dean muttered quietly. "You aren't the only one who's noticed that state of mind, Cas."

When he looked again, the angel was gone. Maybe he was as much at a loss as Dean was.

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_Three weeks later..._

They got into a bar fight---of all things---in Scottsbluff when they went after a couple of vampires, only to find a whole colony. It was like something out of a movie, and it was the most fun, if bruising, hunt they'd had in years. Dean and Sam, back to back, chairs flying and machetes chopping.

"We gotta ride that one again!" Dean crowed, wiping vampire blood off his blade. The floor was littered with decapitated vamps, and the newlywed couple that had been abducted were cowering in the corner by the bar, bloody but perfectly safe. Sam couldn't help but grin, too.

"Winchesters ten, vamps zero…."

"You can say that again, bro!" Dean hooted.

Sam had started toward the young man and woman quivering in the corner, when the front door exploded inward. Splinters of wood and glass showered the room as something rushed inside.

Some _things_. Plural.

Dean barely had time to shout a warning before Sam sensed rather than saw one of the invisible things dashing across the room. It plowed into Sam, knocking him backwards and flat on his back. He screamed as unseen claws ripped across the skin of his stomach.

Another set dug into his left calf, and suddenly he was being yanked foot-first toward the door. Vicious growls surrounded him, drowning out Dean's shouts and the couple's terrified cries. Sam recognized the sounds---would have anywhere. Hellhounds.

The report of a shotgun cut through the din, and the pressure on his leg disappeared. Sam tried to crawl away, but more claws dug into his side and thigh, pinning him under something that seemed to weigh as much as the Impala. Hot, putrid breath filled his nostrils. Sam closed his eyes against what he was sure must have been coming next.

Then the pressure lifted, an almost pitiful yelp replacing the rumbling growls. Sam opened his eyes to see Castiel standing over him, pulling at the invisible beast with his bare hands and flinging it across the room. A long, silver sword dropped from his sleeve, and he plunged it at the ground near Sam's left side. Another yelp, this time followed by the soft, whimpering groan of something dying.

Cas moved on, taking out two more of them, until the survivors all bolted from the building, crying. Dean slid to a stop beside Sam, and began frantically checking him over. The worst was his belly, but even that wasn't too deep. The hounds hadn't been trying to kill him, or he'd have been puppy chow already. His left leg and side were bleeding, but the wounds weren't bad.

"Sammy? Hey, say something..."

Sam collected his thoughts, then looked from Cas to Dean. "What the hell was _that_ about?"

00000

Sam didn't take the news that Lucifer had sicced the hounds on him well, as Dean had expected. Dean had stitched Sam's wounds while Cas stood watch outside the motel, then all three zapped to the relative safety of Bobby's house.

Dean paced in the junkyard while Sam and Bobby laid lines of goofer dust to secure the house. His brother was furious at not being told about the hounds. Dean couldn't blame him. What was worse, he detected more than a trace of hurt beneath that anger, which made him feel about two inches tall.

After all the months to working to repair their relationship and stop the secrets and lies---and even raking Sam over the coals early on for making the same mistakes---Dean had to go and do a 180. He just hoped he hadn't undone all the work he and his brother had done rebuilding all their bridges.

"Sam is quite angry."

Dean jumped at Castiel's voice. He turned and favored the angel with a smirk. "Welcome to the club."

Cas had kept the secret, too, and Sam knew it.

"I tried to apologize, but---"

"Just let him cool off. Sam never stays mad for long." Well, he hadn't with _Dean_, so far.

Castiel sighed softly---a distinctly human habit which Dean had noticed the angel had picked up recently---and looked around. "This house is secure for now, but the hounds will surround us. They no doubt tracked us."

"Any ideas?" Dean asked, knowing there weren't any he hadn't already rejected.

"The hounds have his scent, and have tasted his flesh. Even the Enochian symbols won't shield him, now. More will come and we can't kill them all."

"Or Luci will follow them here and come to Sam personally," Dean added morosely.

"A very real possibility," Cas agreed grimly. "I don't suppose _you _have any ideas...."

Dean shook his head. They were screwed, unless he could think of something. The hounds wouldn't give up, and they would lead the Devil straight to Sam. He refused to think past that. The thought of Sam in_ Hell _was just too much.

He sighed. There had to be some way to stop Lucifer from carrying out his plan.

00000

_If Sam was mad before, he'd be spitting nails now_.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at the thought as he stood and stepped back from the summoning sigil. He bumped right into Castiel.

"Dean..."

"You really need to stop doing that," Dean scolded, knowing it was useless.

Cas ignored him, looking worried, and---was it his imagination?--- maybe a little disappointed. "What happened to 'Team Free Will?'"

Dean clenched his teeth. "It's alive and well. This is my choice, for my reasons."

"Sam will---"

"Be mad as hell, I know," Dean smiled. "But, he'll forgive me. Eventually."

_I hope. In a few years_. _Maybe_.

"He always does...even when I don't deserve it." He added quietly.

_He forgave Dad...that's a good sign, right?_

Cas said nothing, looking down at the road where Dean had drawn the sigil. Dean punched him on the shoulder.

"You watch out for Sammy, you hear me? I'm counting on you."

The angel stood a little taller, eyes rising to meet Dean's. "I will. You have my word."

Dean nodded. He hadn't told Cas the details of his plan, but it was good to know someone would be watching out for his brother…in case the plan didn't work. He motioned down the road. "You better get back. I don't know how this will go down."

Castiel nodded once, then with that faint _flap _Dean was never going to get used to, he was gone. He took a deep breath and let it out. The next few minutes would decide his and Sam's future. Rehearsing his lines again, Dean closed his eyes and waited.

"Praying for guidance, Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes to see a tall, thin man watching him. He was dressed simply, like an average blue-collar worker. He actually looked a lot like John Winchester, before the fire. Before he stopped being Dean and Sam's dad. Michael seemed to prefer the appearance.

"I'd say you certainly need some." Another voice came from behind him. Dean glanced back, but he recognized the voice easily. Zachariah. He had to suppress the urge to open fire on the lying, holier-than-thou prick. To make sure he didn't reach for his handgun, Dean folded his arms across his chest and kept his gaze on Michael.

"Did you call me to say yes, or are we still screwing around?" Michael asked, a hint of impatience and a heavy dose of superiority bleeding through in his tone.

Dean smirked. "I'm here to make a deal."

"I'd think you'd have had enough of those for one lifetime," Zachariah snorted behind him. "Don't waste any more time, just say yes and let's get this show on the road."

"I don't recall inviting you to this shindig, Chuckles," Dean growled. "I summoned Michael. I'm _talking _to _Michael_."

"Listen, you little---"

"Zachariah," Michael interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "He's right. He called me, and I want to hear what he has to say."

_Here goes nothing_... Dean dropped his hands and squared his shoulders. "I'm willing to help you stop Lucifer."

Michael said nothing, just waited patiently. Dean pressed on, hoping it was a good sign. "But, only if Sam stays out of this."

The archangel started to speak, but Dean cut him off, nodding toward Zachariah. "Zach said we could strike first, before Lucifer got to Sam. That's what I want. You stick Sam in that Green Room, and keep him there until this is all over. Nothing happens to him."

Michael pursed his lips, looking into the distance. "Hmm. You have an interesting idea, Dean. Without Sam, Lucifer will have to split his attention between us and holding his own substandard vessel together. We'll have the advantage."

"Do we have---?"

"_Wait_, Dean. Not yet. I have a question for you, first."

Dean blinked. "Uh, okay."

"Why? Why do this? You're going back on your word to Sam. Betraying his trust. He might hate you the rest of his life. Why take that risk?"

Dean had already considered that. He knew Sam wouldn't agree with what he was doing. Might want to take his chances with the hounds, rather than let Dean offer himself up like this. But, in the end, Dean's little brother was in trouble, and he had a chance to get him out of it. It was that simple. It had been that simple that night at the crossroads.

Whatever else had happened between them, whatever pain they'd inflicted on each other, this was what brothers did for each other. Dean had doubted it a few times, wondered if he'd done the right thing buying Sam's life back the first time. Now, though, he couldn't believe he'd ever questioned his choice.

In that moment, he remembered the first time his mom had let him hold his baby brother, all the different schools, all the nights spent in lonely motel rooms---both as kids and as adults---and he knew that saving Sam wasn't just something he did because he felt responsible, not because it was his job.

He saved Sam because he wanted to.

Dean looked at Michael---at a very different brother---and smiled slightly. "If you have to ask, you'd never understand."

The archangel looked confused, but he simply shrugged. "Very well. Dean, will you---?"

"Wait. Sam first."

Zachariah made an exasperated sound behind him. "Michael, why are you letting this---?"

"It's _my _decision, Zachariah. You've done well guiding us to this point...but don't forget your place." Michael scolded. He turned back to Dean. "It's already done. Sam is safe."

That brought Dean up short. "How did you know where---?"

"The way Castiel and Bobby Singer were fortifying that house, it wasn't difficult to deduce," Michael smirked in apparent self-satisfaction.

"I have your word?" Dean asked, his anxiety ratcheting up. He was putting trust into creatures who had screwed him and his brother before. He prayed that he wasn't wrong.

"In my Father's name, Dean. Sam will be protected."

It was a deal, then. The best he could do. Dean sighed, only partially with relief. _I'm sorry, Sammy_.

"Okay. I'll be your vessel."

The blast of light blinded him.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for the great reviews on chapter one. I hope you like the rest as much!_

_Disclaimers: SPN, not mine. Money, not here. Geminigrl11, awesome. _

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**Chapter 2**

Sam blinked, and he was in a different place. One moment, he was in Bobby's library, looking up ways of fighting Hellhounds and wondering where Dean had gone off to, and the next, he was in some overly-ornate dining room.

He looked around, taking in the white walls with their gold and green highlights. The gold looked real...not paint. A dozen Medieval paintings depicting the Apocalypse hung on the walls. Sam's eyes were drawn to one---Josse Lieferinxe's "St. Michael Killing The Dragon"---showing Michael slaying Lucifer. He recognized it from the art history class he took at Stanford. "Where the hell am I?"

"You can think of it as the Green Room. You're backstage, waiting on the Big Show."

Spinning around at the sudden voice, Sam froze. Zachariah stood about ten feet from him, at the end of the dinner table. A dozen salad shakers appeared in a blink. "Here, sit down and relax."

Sam looked from the table to the angel with a grimace. He wasn't hungry, and certainly didn't want to share a meal with that bastard.

"What's wrong? Don't trust me?"

"You broke my legs and took my lungs!" Sam spat. "Why should I trust you?"

Zachariah shrugged. "I'm sure it's difficult. You mud-monkeys have surprisingly long memories."

"What am I doing here?" Sam asked, ignoring the insult.

"Dean wanted you here. He apparently thinks we can keep you out of trouble better than he can."

That had to be a lie. Dean didn't trust these guys as far as he could throw the Impala. "What have you done to him?"

"We haven't done anything _to _him," Zachariah sneered. "He is fulfilling his destiny. About time, too."

"He wouldn't--- _Why _would he do that?"

"Who knows? You know Dean, it's all bitch, bitch, bitch, Sam, Sam, Sam," the angel sounded annoyed. "This time it was something about Hell Hounds and not wanting you to spend a few decades in Hell. I think he pampers, you, kid."

Sam absorbed that in shock. _Dean gave himself to the angels for _me_? Another deal? _He couldn't believe it. After everything....

"So, anyway, you sit tight, Sammy. Have a salad. I'll be back."

By the time Sam looked up, the manipulative angel was gone.

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"Any luck?" Bobby asked as soon as Castiel appeared in his library.

The angel shook his head, solemnly. "No word on Dean, but I've confirmed that Sam was taken for safekeeping. Apparently, that was one of the terms of Dean's deal."

"Stupid, _stupid_, idjit! He should have talked to us, first."

Castiel frowned. "He wished to ensure Sam's safety. Dean…is difficult to dissuade on that topic."

He could tell from the human's expression that there was grudging agreement there. The moment was fleeting, however, as Bobby scowled.

"Your buddies haven't exactly been concerned with Sam's safety before. How can we be sure they'll honor Dean's wishes now?"

"You can't."

Castiel spun at the new voice. Gabriel sat atop the desk near the fireplace, a smirk on his face. "Hey, Pretty Boy. Still rockin' the Columbo look, I see."

"What do you want Gabriel?"

"The same thing you want, to help Sam."

"Sure," Bobby scoffed. "You've done nothing but torture that kid since you met him!"

Gabriel held out his hands in mock innocence. "Moi? I might play a little rough, but it's not my fault that the kid has no sense of humor. You try getting a message through that thick, Cro-Magnon skull sometime."

The human didn't look impressed. Castiel changed the subject. "Dean's deal with Michael was to ensure Sam's safety. He's likely in the Green Room where we kept Dean."

"Do you honestly think that Sam will be safe there?" It was Gabriel's turn to scoff. "The plan called for _two _brothers, remember? Sam wasn't supposed to walk out of that convent without a passenger. Now, Michael's swooped down and made a sweetheart deal with his vessel and Sammy's off the hook. Don't you think there are some who won't like that very much?"

Bobby cursed. "Zachariah."

"Bingo!" Gabriel crowed, producing some obnoxious child's party favor out of thin air and blowing into it. The noise seemed to penetrate directly into Jimmy's skull, creating a pain Castiel shared with his vessel. Cas shook it off. Zachariah was many things: manipulative, stubborn, superior, but he wouldn't disobey Michael.

"Zachariah wouldn't dare break a deal Michael has agreed to."

"Mikey was asleep a long time," the trickster sighed, appearing mournful. "Things have changed. New regime. New attitude. Zach is running his own show back home. You remember that little trick with the voicemail, don't you? Zachariah couldn't care less about Sam's well-being."

_There's a great deal of logic in that_, Cas pondered silently.

"We've got to get to him!" Bobby chimed in, alarmed. "Can you get to that Green Room---or astral plane, whatever it is?"

Castiel shook his head. "It is tightly guarded. Even if we could get there, we might not get out again."

"Wouldn't matter anyway," Gabriel added. "I'm sure Zachariah's ready to move, if he hasn't already. We won't get there in time."

Bobby was seething. "There's got to be something you can do!"

Gabriel grinned. "We might be too late to get Sam _out_...but we can still intercept them. I know where they'll be going."

"Why would you do this?" Castiel asked, mildly suspicious of the devious archangel's motives.

Pursing his lips, Gabriel hesitated, then sighed. "What can I say? I like those boys." He glanced at Bobby. "_Both_ of them."

"Very well. We should leave immediately," Castiel turned to Bobby. "You should continue to fortify the house. We will likely be pursued."

He prepared to transport himself. It was much more difficult, lately, being cut off from Heaven's power.

"Whoa there, cowboy!" Gabriel held up a hand. "We're going to need some serious mojo to rescue the Sasquatch. Zachariah's not just going to hand him over."

Castiel paused, realizing that he did not have a good course of action. Dean's brazenness was contagious. "I...am open to suggestions."

Gabriel grinned widely. "Well, for starters, getting _your _mojo back will help."

With a casual wave of a hand, Castiel felt Heaven's power flood into him again, filling his being like a dam bursting.

"There, that's good," the archangel said approvingly. "Now, let's get this show on the road."

00000

Sam had had enough.

Six hours he'd waited, with nothing to do but stew and think about what his idiot brother had done. That line of thought was only making him angry, and with no one to take that anger out on, Sam was slowly going crazy.

He needed out. The gilded door was locked from the outside, so Sam improvised. He found an angel statuette with a very heavy base, and began methodically bludgeoning a hole in the center of the door. The hole was nearly big enough to stick his hand through when he sensed a change in the room.

"Howler monkeys. Feces-slinging howler monkeys. You and Dean are exactly alike." Zachariah tsked disdainfully. Sam turned, finding the angel about ten feet behind him, glaring at the door. When Sam glanced back, the hole was gone, along with the door. Now a pristine white wall stood in its place.

"Did you even wonder what was outside, or were you just exercising your primal instincts for destruction?"

"I want to see Dean, right now," Sam growled back.

"Can't. Well, can't yet. You've got an appointment."

"An—What?"

Zachariah smiled that smug, omniscient smile of his, clearly enjoying himself. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…we've got a show to put on here. Now, Michael might have rolled over for Dean, but I'm looking at the big picture. This show needs two leads, and frankly I don't give a damn what Dean wants, we're going to _have_ two leads."

The angel stepped toward him, and Sam reflexively stepped back, statuette still in hand, only to promptly find the wall had moved and now Sam was backed into a corner. Zachariah extended his arm, and pointed at Sam's forehead.

"You can't fight City Hall, kid. Time to do what you're told, for once in your miserable life."

Sam brought the statuette up, but before he could launch it at the angel, the fingers connected with his head, and the room began to swirl and twist around him.

Then Sam was falling.

00000

Jimmy was right, Dean thought. Being possessed by an angel was a lot like being chained to a comet.

A comet blasting across the planet at warp speed.

Part of him was fascinated, the rest petrified. It was the world's best roller coaster; he just hoped the ride was over soon. It had only been about three days, so far as Dean could tell, since Michael had taken him---it felt like a lifetime.

Rumors passed quickly through the demonic underworld. With word of Dean's deal spreading, Lucifer raced to release the fourth and final Horseman, hoping to hedge his bets. With Death and Pestilence marching across the land---and a healthy dose of the Croatoan virus to go with them---the Heavenly Host would be too busy containing the disaster to rally against him.

Or so he seemed to think.

Michael wasted no time. He dispatched a few of his troops to contain Death and the more powerful demons Lucifer had cut loose, but moved most of his army against Satan as soon as he could assemble it. Ground zero ended up being a small, ancient church in an arid, deserted stretch of Nevada.

Lucifer wasn't stupid. He had gathered hundreds of demons and an assortment of lesser beasts---vampires, lycans, rugarus, shapeshifters, even a few wendigos---around the church, practically turning the site into a fortress.

Dean was more a passenger than a participant. He felt his body moving, felt it when he took hits, but it was all detached. Distant, like he was in a bubble and events were unfolding just outside his reach. _I wonder if this is how Sam felt when Meg had him_....

The angelic army tore into the assembly head on, shaking the Earth and the sky with their blows. Demons and monsters fought hard, but they could only hold the Host back, not turn the tide. The other archangels cleared a path, holding it open long enough to allow Michael to storm the church alone.

They found Lucifer inside, standing placidly by the altar of the small chapel. It was hard for Dean to see past the brilliance of the angel riding him, but from what he could see, Lucifer looked calm. Even amused.

Nick, the vessel, was deteriorating, not even completely held together by the Fallen angel's power. His face was shriveling, hair falling out, skin stretched tight over the skull. Dean felt a surge of satisfaction from Michael; they'd been right, the Devil was vulnerable.

There were others with him. Dean could just make out Meg, in her new host, along with a few of her thugs---possessed bouncers, maybe---that looked as if they could tear humans apart with their bare hands, as well as a couple of daevas. Dean remembered her preferred bodyguards all too well. Michael could see them clearly. They were even uglier than Dean had once imagined.

"Welcome, big brother!" Lucifer called cheerfully. "Long time, no see."

Dean felt Michael flush with old anger and pain, buried hurts from ages past. He recognized that feeling. Michael's words rang out in Dean's voice. "Not long enough, brother."

"Aw, not happy to see me? I'm hurt. I've been waiting to see you, again."

As if on cue, twenty or more demons emerged from the shadows around them. Michael was completely surrounded by the Devil's minions.

"I know," Michael said coldly, drawing his sword and rallying his energy. Dean felt the power pulse through him, and found himself oddly excited. Wielding such power was a rush, even for him as a passenger. No wonder Sammy had gotten addicted to it. He'd have to remember to talk to his brother later. He got it, now. The rush made him feel _invincible_.

"Do you?" Lucifer asked with a coy smirk. "I doubt you do. But, before we start this party, I have a gift for your vessel…."

Satan waved to someone off in the shadows. Michael glanced over, and Dean could see two more of Meg's bouncer-types dragging something toward the altar.

00000

Castiel and Gabriel charged into the battle outside the church. All around them, angels and archangels traded blows with demons and all kinds of lesser creatures. A few human hunters had entered the fray, a specialized team from the Vatican. Cas recognized their members; he'd delivered a few epistles to them before rebelling with Dean. Other humans would come the longer this went on; the battle would be putting off EMF and omens for miles.

"Not exactly what I'd had in mind," Gabriel muttered, blasting through a pack of demons.

"I thought we were _intercepting _Sam?" Castiel called back, flinging two lycans away with his renewed powers.

"Looks like we're late to the party. He's inside, though, I can feel it."

"Then, _we_ need to get inside!" Castiel shot back. Gabriel nodded. They fought their way toward the church. Castiel's sword was very effective at killing angels. It simply atomized demons.

As they neared the structure, they came across Raphael, who was busily incinerating demons and a few attacking vampires with Heavenly fire. The archangel saw them, eyes settling on Castiel with cold fury.

"He's with me and the owner knows us!" Gabriel appeared between them, waving two tickets with the large letters "V.I.P." on them and grinning like a wild man. Cas had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Raphael considered them both for a few seconds, then waved them inside and resumed his defense by blasting two more demons.

"Ralphy never shows it, but he's always had a sense of humor," Gabriel whispered conspiratorially as they proceeded inside.

00000

It wasn't something they were dragging, it was some_one_. The two possessed men entered the lighted area around the altar, and Dean felt a wave of surprise ripple through Michael's being a second before his own clouded, ethereal vision came into focus.

_No. …Sammy? _

The demons held Sam by his upper arms, his body sagging between theirs. Sam was...barely recognizable. His face was swollen and bleeding, and where his shirt hung open someone's handiwork with a scalpel could be seen. Sam's fingers were bloated and purple, as were his wrists, and bare feet. God... Dean's shock burned into rage. He yanked at the chains that held Michael inside him---deep down he knew they weren't real, just his imagination trying to make sense of a connection that his brain couldn't process, but he yanked on those connections nonetheless.

_You promised me, you son of a bitch! You swore he'd be safe!_

"Dean, I swear to you---"

Dean was apoplectic.

_We had a deal and you bastards turned him over to them anyway! Damn you, Michael! I will find a way to KILL you, I swear to God!_

Michael was reeling, Dean could feel it. "Dean, please, you have to calm down. I don't understand what's happened here, you have my word."

An angel's word. Not worth the air it was spoken with, so far as Dean was concerned. Michael apologized, but suppressed Dean as far down as he dared. Dean could still see what was happening, but he couldn't fight back against Michael's presence. He was imprisoned inside his own body, a cage of flesh and bone.

Lucifer watched, obviously seeing the turmoil inside Michael's vessel. No doubt what he'd been aiming for. "I tried to convince Sam to say yes for _hours_. Time being of the essence, and all, I resorted to threatening Dean. Dean's always been Sam's main button. Unfortunately, Sam here was convinced that his brother would be safe so long as he was strapped to _my_ brother. He's one of the most stubborn mud-monkeys I've ever met. Very annoying."

Strolling around Sam like a cat sizing up a canary, Lucifer continued his monologue, yanking Sam's head back by the hair so that Michael and Dean would have a better view of the battered and bleeding face.

Dean slammed himself against his cage, screaming at Michael. He'd been betrayed. The angels demanded obedience but dealt in treachery. Dean's anger flared almost as bright as Michael himself.

Satan was practically drooling at the pain he was inflicting. Michael stewed silently, gripping his sword so tight Dean's hand bled.

"So, when that didn't work, I let my children try to talk some sense into him." Lucifer continued, his voice taking on a demented sing-song quality. "They tried and tried, but Sam kept saying no. I knew you were getting closer, so I had to take drastic measures. We decided to break every bone in Sam's body…."

He turned to Meg, smiling sweetly. "How far did we get, my dear?"

"Ninety-seven, Master," Meg smiled back, sickeningly. "We didn't quite finish with his feet...or even get to his spine."

Dean could only imagine the pleasure the bitch had taken in that assignment. She was going to die too---slowly---if Dean had anything to say about it.

"Even you couldn't get to Sam, brother," Michael said, voice dripping with menace. "What treachery is this?"

"Treachery?" A new voice asked from somewhere behind the altar. Dean watched as Zachariah stepped out into the light. New fury built in him, matched by a surge of anger from Michael that scorched at the walls of Dean's cage. He wouldn't have wanted to see what his face looked like at that moment.

"Zachariah?"

"There are no traitors, here, Michael. The prophecy called for _two_ brothers. It was my job to supply _two brothers_." Zachariah chastised bitterly. "What did you think? You could just wake up and take over like it hadn't been two thousand years? You want to make it up as you go, make sweetheart deals with Mr. Surly Attitude, there? No! We had a _plan_! You had no right to meddle with our work!"

"So, you side with _Lucifer_?" Michael cried, incredulous. "Your solution is disobedience? You renounce our Father's Word?"

Zachariah was unfazed. "Our Father is long gone, and the only one being disobedient here is _you_. I'm doing what has to be done. I'm not siding with _anyone_, just making sure destiny plays out the way it's _supposed_ to."

"You will die, I promise you that!" Michael spat, fury radiating through his being.

"If that's my destiny, so be it," Zachariah nodded smugly, producing his own sword from inside his jacket. "But, I doubt it."

Michael lunged forward, moving to attack, but the other demons in the room converged on him, blocking him from Lucifer and the others. The archangel plowed into them with a vengeance. Dean's body took some damage, but while Dean was aware of it, he felt no pain. He could feel himself moving, wading through the onslaught like a dancer, sword swinging, demons screaming.

He didn't care. Dean just wanted Michael to end this so they could get to Sam.

00000

Castiel entered the chapel with Gabriel close behind him. The scene was chaos.

Michael was engaged in battle with nearly two dozen demons and a few daevas. Lucifer, the demon the Winchesters called Meg, and Zachariah stood by the altar at the north end of the room. Zachariah's presence was disheartening, but sadly not surprising.

The worst, though, was the prisoner being held near Lucifer. Sam. The boy appeared to have been tortured severely. Castiel felt the strong human urge to scream in anger. Sam had become his friend, and his friend was supposed to have been safe. Dean had sacrificed himself and gone against his better judgment to ensure that. Instead, Sam had been mauled and mutilated thanks to Zachariah's duplicity.

A trio of demons noticed their entrance, and disengaged from Michael to charge at them. Gabriel stepped forward. "Hold it right there, fellas."

With a snap of his fingers, the three demons froze in place, turned to stone.

"We must reach Sam," Castiel said quietly, then he snarled the way he'd seen Dean on occasion. "And Zachariah is _mine_."

Gabriel laughed. "I'm right behind you, Rambo."

00000

Sam was in agony. The demons holding him up showed no mercy---not that he expected them to---and kept him upright when all he wanted to do was collapse and pass out.

He was aware of Lucifer, and Meg, and Zachariah nearby, but had trouble seeing anything with one eye swollen shut and a broken blood vessel in the other. He could hear Dean's voice, but it sounded all wrong. It reverberated through the room, vibrating through his throbbing bones and muscles. _Michael. Has to be_….

Meg and her cronies had tortured him for almost two days. But, for the first time in a very long while, he was proud. He hadn't broken. Lucifer was wrong: Sam had said no, and kept saying no, no matter what they did to him. Dean was safe; they couldn't hold that over him. Dean was all that mattered to him, anyway. Let them carve him into little pieces, he didn't care.

Sam did care that Dean had to see him like this, though. He prayed that Michael had Dean buried deep down somewhere, so that he wouldn't have to watch any of this.

Lucifer was toying with them all. He grabbed Sam by the hair, showing Michael their handiwork, no doubt hoping Dean could see it, too. _The bastard_.

His brain was scrambled, probably from the beating. A small voice in his head said _concussion, internal injuries_…along with other things that seemed important but he couldn't bring himself to worry about, like the splintered bones in his chest, feet and hands. He was adrift in the pain, drowning in it.

There were other sounds now, weapons clashing, screams, flames, but it was all so far away. Sam wanted to sleep. He'd sleep anywhere, even the panic room again. He was just so tired….

A hand touched his jaw, levering his head up. Through his bloodstained eye, Sam saw Lucifer right in his face.

"The time for games is over, Sam. You're going to be my vessel. I need you. We need each other. I can make the pain go away, son, just say yes. You have to say yes. _Now_!"

Sam frowned. _Yes to what? Oh. Right. Yes. That wasn't going to happen_. He wanted to tell Lucifer just that, but he couldn't find the words. Only one jumped to the forefront of his addled brain, so he spoke it.

"No." For emphasis, he spit the blood that was pooling in his mouth into Lucifer's face.

The shout of frustration and fury startled him. Not as surprising, though, as the sudden impact under his jaw that whipped his head back with a sickening crack. A sudden heat, like lightning, shot through him, frying his nerve endings and synapses. A deep cold followed, settling over him like being doused in ice water. Some part of Sam's rapidly failing brain realized he'd felt like this once before, but had no time to remember when.

Something hard and unforgiving hit him in the back…just as everything but the deep, impenetrable cold faded out.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, guys, fasten your seatbelts. I'd been thinking, we've got angels, demons, Lucifer, the Anti-Christ…there's someone missing._

_One more time: geminigrl11, awesome beta. _

00000

**Chapter 3**

It seemed that each time Castiel killed a demon, two more took its place. The two dozen or so in the room were being reinforced by others who were slipping past the angelic army outside. He and Gabriel were no closer to Lucifer, Michael or Sam than they had been when they arrived.

Finally, Gabriel raised his hands. "Time to change the channel fellas," he quipped, snapping his fingers. Instantly, every demon within thirty feet vanished, transported to some other reality that the mischievous archangel must have found amusing. Castiel blinked, but shook the surprise off. They had a clear shot at the altar, now, and he moved in that direction. If they could get to Sam before more demons entered---

The sound of Sam's neck snapping brought the entire room to a momentary halt.

Castiel and Gabriel stopped in their tracks and stared in shock. A glance to his left, and Castiel saw Michael---Dean---staring in horror. Even Meg and the demons were startled---they'd been expecting Lucifer to take Sam as a host.

Even from where he stood, Castiel could tell that the life in his friend's body had been blasted out by Lucifer's enraged attack. Restoring human life normally would have been relatively easy for an angel, so long as the soul was intact. Sam's was…gone. Utterly destroyed. Lucifer's power had left only a burned out shell of flesh.

Zachariah, still standing near the altar, was the first among the shocked crowd to speak. He sounded appalled. "What--- What have you done? He was your vessel…."

Cas watched, stunned, as Lucifer spun on the Machiavellian angel, grabbing him by the throat. "Do you think I give a damn about _your_ plan, old man? Did you honestly think I would play along, let Michael kill me and give you the Paradise you wanted?"

With that, Lucifer punched through Zachariah's chest with his free hand, instantly killing the human vessel. A moment later, blinding white light exploded outward, obliterating four demons that got too close. Meg barely leapt behind the altar in time to avoid the blast.

Zachariah was dead.

Castiel felt a very human disappointment. He'd wanted to dole out the manipulative traitor's punishment himself. He immediately squashed the selfish emotion. _I am becoming too human_.

Lucifer let the body slide off his fist, then casually picked up the fallen angel's sword and wiped the gore from his hand on his jeans. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure, and nodded to the demons. "Kill them _all_."

The demons, apparently not wanting to argue, resumed their battle with Michael. Castiel looked over, not sure what to do now. His friend was dead. His quarry was dead, and Dean---

Even possessed by Michael, the look on Dean's face was devastated. Cas shared a look with Gabriel, who appeared at a loss. He looked back at Lucifer, who stood smugly watching his troops fight and die for him, occasionally glancing back at Sam with obvious disgust. Cas turned back to Gabriel, adjusting his grip on his sword.

"For Sam."

The archangel stood a little straighter and nodded. They charged.

00000

Sam was…gone. Dean saw his brother go down, but even more, sensed what Michael saw. Lucifer had eradicated Sam, leaving only a cooling corpse. He wouldn't even be able to use the vessel. For a few long moments, Dean was in shock. _This can't be happening_….

Dean slumped, retreating in on himself, even as Michael resumed his battle with Lucifer's minions. The archangel still spared a fraction of his attention to his vessel.

"Dean…forgive me. I--- I didn't want this."

"Dean?"

He didn't bother answering. Dean caught glimpses of Sam's broken body, draped over the altar where he'd landed, as the archangel riding him fought his attackers, pushing inexorably toward where Lucifer stood, and all he could think was that he had failed. His big plan, what seemed like his last chance to get Sammy out of harm's way before the end, all gone. Wasted.

Once, Dean would have felt the urge for vengeance, would have pondered hunting down those lying, treacherous angels---all of them---for what they had done. What they had taken from him, from his family. The instinct to protect Sam used to burn hot, like a sun inside him.

Now, he just felt a black hole, as burned out as Sam's empty, shattered body. _Just like Famine said_….

Dean also sensed what Michael knew. There would be no resurrection this time. The damage was too great. The angels couldn't help his brother, even if they wanted to, and Dean figured they probably didn't anyway.

He could still feel his body moving, taking and delivering punishment. He could hear Michael whispering to him, concerned. Dean tuned it all out and disengaged himself as much as he could. He had nothing left.

Maybe Michael---the lying bastard---would lose, or maybe he could ask the archangel to leave him a comatose shell when he won. Either way, it could all finally be over.

00000

More demons were pouring in all the time. Castiel and Gabriel managed to get halfway to Lucifer, but demons were coming faster than he could kill them or Gabriel could will them away. The archangel had given up being creative, and simply dumped them en masse back into Perdition.

They kept coming.

00000

Michael had had enough. Zachariah had betrayed him, Lucifer mocked him, and Dean was so withdrawn he wasn't sure the human could still hear him.

When he'd first confronted Dean, Michael hadn't been sure why the stubborn, mouthy human was so concerned with Sam Winchester. The younger brother had turned on him, let himself be manipulated and tainted by a lowly demon, tempted by power and blinded by vengeance. Sam wasn't worthy of Dean's loyalty.

Yet that loyalty was there. He didn't understand it, until the moment Lucifer struck Sam down. The explosion of emotion in Dean's mind…was _staggering_. It had taken that for Michael to remember.

He'd felt that once. When he'd been ordered to cast his rebellious, ambitious younger brother into the Pit all those eons ago. He'd obeyed, even while doubting his Father's wisdom. _Surely there was another way_, he'd thought. The confrontation with Lucifer had proved to him otherwise. There could be no forgiveness, no absolution.

Which was why Dean's stance confused him so much. Surely these mere mortals would understand that. If they were as perceptive and worthy as his Father had said, surely they would agree. Betrayal shouldn't be forgiven. It only led to chaos and pain.

Yet Dean grieved so much for Sam now that it was like a vacuum inside him. Michael couldn't change what had happened, probably couldn't regain Dean's trust, but he could end this. He could fulfill the plan, bring Paradise.

Dean would be at peace then.

Michael concentrated his energy, then released it in a mighty blast from his hands. The demons that weren't incinerated were blown aside. He had a straight shot at Lucifer. A flap of his wings and he was there, at the altar, face to face with his fallen brother, crossing swords again at last.

"You won't win, brother. My legions outnumber yours." Lucifer taunted.

Their swords clashed with force that shattered the air around them. Michael didn't reply to the barb, pressing home his attack until Lucifer was slammed back against the altar, near Sam's body. Michael raised his sword, preparing for the final blow, and let himself feel a surge of pride at the ease of his victory.

At that moment, Meg appeared from behind the altar, brandishing her own blade, and lunged. Michael stepped back, barely dodging the strike, and replied by swinging his left fist out. He channeled some of his energy through the motion, and hit Meg hard enough that the demon inside was killed instantly.

Fortunately, the human host was already long dead, so his attack did no harm to her.

Unfortunately, Lucifer took advantage of Meg's distraction and catapulted himself off the altar. Michael couldn't turn back in time, and Lucifer's sword plunged deep into Dean's gut, skewering human and angel alike. Pain struck like a wave, and Michael staggered back. Lucifer twisted the sword, finishing it.

00000

Castiel was surrounded. Fighting exhaustion, he kept going. He'd been killing most of the demonic horde, but had switched to simply banishing them to conserve energy. Gabriel did the same.

He couldn't shake the feeling that they were losing. Sam was gone. The angels outside seemed to be losing ground and letting more demons through. Dean had no doubt given up---the bond between the boys was too strong. One couldn't function without the other. What had allowed Lilith and Zachariah to get what they wanted would also hamper Michael from achieving victory. Any other time, Castiel would marvel at the irony.

A cry of pain broke through Castiel's perception. He sensed the death throws of the source before he had time to look and see Michael stumbling backward, Lucifer driving his sword home through Dean's body.

"No," Gabriel gasped. "Impossible...."

Castiel shared his shock, but that didn't change the fact that Michael, prophesized to slay the Beast...had just been slain _by_ the Beast. Hopelessness filled him. Lucifer was going to be victorious after all. All their efforts, all the fighting, all the loss, had been for nothing.

Movement in his peripheral vision drew his eyes back toward the altar, just as he felt a kaleidoscope of emotion from Gabriel, from shock to elation. A crack of thunder sounded, seeming to rend the very air around them. The sound grew and the church began to tear itself apart around them.

Gabriel stepped forward, away from Castiel, and raised his voice. "_Behold!_"

A hum drew his attention downward. Cas reached into the pocket of his trench coat, and pulled out Dean's amulet.

It was glowing.

00000

Dean felt the sword pierce his stomach. He'd been impaled a few times in Hell, so he knew what it felt like…he didn't like the sensation any better now. Michael seemed to agree. They fell to the floor together, Lucifer's weapon still lodged near Dean's spine.

Michael was mortally wounded, unable to disentangle his being from Dean's. They lay there, helpless, as Lucifer sauntered forward and kneeled beside them.

"You shouldn't have come here, brother. Just ask Dean. I told him. _I win_."

Michael couldn't reply. Dean was still partially blinded by the archangel's---fading---brilliance, but he had regained control of his eyes as Michael weakened. He moved them to look up at Lucifer, who was staring back with an expression approaching sympathy.

"Well, Dean, I guess we didn't need to wait five years after all. For what it's worth, it wasn't personal. This is just how it had to be."

Thunder rolled outside, so loud it rattled the church rafters. The rumbling grew in intensity, until dust was falling from the old beams, and the stained glass in the windows cracked.

Dean couldn't move anything but his eyes, but had a fairly good view from where he lay. Lucifer stood, looking around the room in confusion. Castiel and Gabriel had stopped fighting and stood, appearing as puzzled as Lucifer. He felt Michael's curiosity from inside him, even as the archangel's life force ebbed. Something strange was happening.

With a thunderous roar, a mighty wind blasted into the room, shattering windows. Wood and metal screamed in protest as the church's roof lifted off the walls and segments exploded outward in four directions. Distantly, Dean could hear unearthly screams from the embattled demon army outside.

The wall behind the altar split, ceiling to floor, and the altar broke into halves, dropping Sam's body unceremoniously to the floor. Dean felt remorse at that; Sam couldn't even have peace in death.

Cold was setting in as he lay there. Dean knew wounds to the gut were slow and painful ways to go. He was bleeding out around the angelic sword. He could see Michael's radiance dimming. As soon as the archangel went, Dean reasoned, his end would come rapidly. He couldn't say he was unhappy about that. At least he wouldn't live to see the horrors that were coming to the world. At least he wouldn't have to live through it without his brother.

Lucifer looked to his minions, baffled. They stared back at him. None of them knew what was happening as the building seemed to rip apart around them. Behind the Devil, Dean caught movement in his peripheral vision. His slowing heart rate sped up when his eyes finally focused.

_ Sammy?_

Sam was rising slowly to his feet, haltingly, as if he was unused to moving around. It wasn't possible, though. Sam was gone. Lucifer had murdered him. Dean frowned. Were hallucinations setting in already?

Gabriel's voice boomed, shaking the room and knocking many of the demonic horde off their feet. The devious trickster appeared ecstatic. "_Behold! The son of Mary has returned!_"

Dean's frown deepened. _What does Mom have to do with this?_

His attention moved back to Sam, who was on his feet and moving toward Lucifer.

The Devil turned, and lurched back, almost tripping over Dean's legs. "NO! You're dead!"

Half a dozen demons stepped toward Sam. He looked at them…and they vanished. Dean would have gasped had his lungs been capable of anything more than their shallow panting. Sam had never shown that kind of power before.

Lucifer seemed panicked. He turned and yanked the sword from Dean's stomach. Dean and Michael cried out together, back arching off the floor. The blood flowed faster now. As the weapon swung around toward Sam, Dean watched as his brother raised his hand…and the sword turned to dust.

The Devil frantically gathered his energies, bringing his hands together. Dean had some idea what these angels were truly capable of, but this looked like some special attack move from Mortal Kombat. Sort of what Michael had been doing. He shivered at the thought of all that power being directed at someone.

Or maybe the shivering was from the blood loss, Dean was sure anymore. The world had gone mad around him.

Sam beat Lucifer to it, raising his own hands and pushing them forward. The Devil screamed as he was knocked backwards off his feet. Dean vaguely registered that the wall behind him had also been blown away.

Michael's control had slipped enough for Dean to shift his neck muscles. He rolled his head around in time to watch Lucifer…get his butt kicked. _Go Sam_. Dean didn't understand how Sam had come back, but maybe one of his freakish abilities was working for them for a change.

A smaller voice in his mind prayed that Sam was still human.

Whatever Dean's misgivings, it didn't change what he was witnessing. Lucifer landed in the rubble left where the wall had blown out. He struggled to rise, but Sam was already standing over him. He spoke quietly to the fallen angel…Dean blinked when his blood-starved brain processed the words.

"I'm sorry, my child."

"No, please!" Lucifer cried, but it was too late. Sam directed another blast at him, and Lucifer simply exploded. There was no other word for it in Dean's vocabulary. It was like a supernova from a movie. A bluish-white energy wave erupted from Lucifer, expanding out and blasting across the landscape. Angels were thrown to the ground, and demons were obliterated when it struck.

Lucifer's army died with him. The shockwave traveled all the way to the horizon. Through the flattened church's walls, Dean saw nothing but scorched dirt and dying foliage.

Dean was astonished. Confused, but astonished. What had just happened? What had Sam done?

The brother in question stood, surveyed the blackened landscape, and turned back toward Dean. Tears glistened on his face. Sam walked back to where Dean lay, and stepped around him. He spared a moment to glance toward Gabriel and Castiel, nodding to them.

Sam knelt as Dean strained to roll his head back and look up at him. It was Sam, but…the eyes were different. Not black like a demon's or dilated like when he was high on demon blood, just…different. Bigger, maybe. Clearer. Luminous. Dean felt like he was falling toward them, even though he knew his body wasn't going anywhere.

With a sigh, Sam reached down and lay his hand on Dean's stomach. Instantly, the cold was gone, replaced by a warmth so encompassing that Dean wanted to curl up and sleep. Sam looked up and surveyed the area around them, then spoke softly.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Michael."

The archangel stirred inside Dean, his brilliance slowly returning. "Father? Is that you?"

Dean paused. _Father?_ But--- Gabriel's words clicked in his mind. _Son of Mary_. Had Michael not been back in control, Dean's eyes would have widened. _Jesus Ch--- Er, Holy CRAP_…. Michael sounded just as amazed.

"We thought you had left us. We thought you were dead."

Sam frowned…that patient frown he often leveled at Dean. "I am. You, of all my children, should have understood."

That didn't make sense to Dean, but it definitely struck a nerve with Michael. The archangel was agitated, yet fearful at the same time. "Father…we were following your plan. We were trying to bring Paradise to this world. We were only trying to make these two humans follow their destiny."

Sam's frown deepened. "Free will, Michael. _Their_ choice, not yours."

"But, Father---"

"Go _home_, Michael." Sam sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was frustrated. "Pray for enlightenment."

Just like that, the archangel was gone, and Dean was back in control of his meatsuit. Not that it mattered; he couldn't move, and reeled from Michael's sudden absence. Sam smiled faintly at him, and extended his hand.

"Will you walk with me, brother?"

Dean should have balked and scuttled away---wondered why he wasn't doing just that---but instead found himself reaching up to take the offered hand. Sam lifted him effortlessly.

00000

The sand was hot under his feet. Dean's gaze shot down; he saw his bare feet sinking into the beach sand. He had been lying on his back in a devastated church an eye blink before.

He was next to Sam---God? Jesus? Dean wasn't sure. They were walking on a beach, the sun was bright in the sky, and waves crashed loudly off to his left.

"Do you know where we are?"

Dean blinked. _The beach, d'uh_, was his first, reflexive answer. But, then he remembered that he wasn't walking next to Sam, not really. "Uh, well...."

He looked at his companion, who was staring off to the right. Dean followed his gaze, finding two children building a sand castle. The older one said something, and the younger broke out laughing.

It took a few seconds longer than it should have for him to realize that he was staring at himself. A lifetime ago. "Uh...Tampa. This was...god, twenty years ago?"

"Nineteen," Sam replied quietly.

This was the summer of 1991. Their dad had worked a job in Tampa, and before they moved on, he took them to a quiet, barely populated stretch of beach. They played all day. The tide had wiped out Sam's first small sand castle, so Dean had helped him build a massive replacement. The new castle stood at least three feet tall.

They'd had so much fun that day. Dean's smile faded. Five months after this trip, Sam would get hold of John's journal, and their dad would miss Christmas after promising Sam he wouldn't. Nothing would the same after that. Their next trip to a beach was marred by a broken bone, and a fast getaway. This was the last summer that Sam had been innocent. Happy.

Dean looked back. "Who are you, really? I mean, you look like Sam, but...." He already knew, but needed to hear it said.

"Would you prefer a pillar of fire? An old man? Alanis Morisette?"

"I---" Dean had to stare for a moment. "I didn't expect you to have a sense of humor."

"I have many faces, Dean," he said, staring at the children playing in the sand. "Your brother was kind enough to let me borrow his."

The reminder of what had happened was like being doused in ice water. Sam was dead. This wasn't Sam. "My brother...can you---? I mean, is he---?"

"He has a choice to make, first. His destiny is his own, as it always has been. You know, the last time I was on a beach like this in human form was...ages ago."

Dean shook his head, the pent-up emotion of the past year spilling over. "_Why? _Why are we here? Why did you let all this happen?"

The expression shifted, turning sad. "I could have destroyed him in an instant, the moment he turned against me. But, I couldn't. He was my most beautiful creation. I thought exile would work, but I was wrong."

"But, is it over?" Dean asked. "The Apocalypse, the big showdown. It's done. We won, right?"

"Aborted, I suppose is the best word for it. It wasn't your choice to open that first Seal, nor was it Sam's to open the last. Zachariah and his supporters were wrong to let Azazel and Lilith get so far. I…hope you will come to forgive them for what they've done."

"What they've done?" Dean exclaimed, outraged. "They let demons murder my family! They pushed Sam into doing something he---his life was _ruined_!"

"You have every right to be angry."

"You're damned right I do!" Dean turned away, watching his younger self add another turret to the growing castle. Sam was carving long, narrow windows into the walls…to 'make it more accurate.' The geek.

It occurred to him, belatedly, that he was screaming at a being that could wipe him out of existence with a word. _Not really the best plan_…. But, then, did it matter anymore?

"You don't need to fear me, Dean. You aren't the first to be angry with me. I've got a thick skin."

As he watched the younger version of Sam play, Dean was hit again with the magnitude of what he'd lost. Dean was healed, it seemed, but Sam was gone. He'd felt it when Michael was inside him. Lucifer had sucked the life right out of his brother. "What am I supposed to do now? You say the war's over. But Sammy's dead. Bobby's crippled. What's left?"

He turned back, looking at---_Jesus,_ he could finally say it---wearing his sibling's face. And noting how crazy that was. His brother's eyes met his, and Dean felt that falling sensation again.

"Free will, Dean. What's left is up to you. If I told you…." He took a deep breath, then nodded toward the Winchester boys in the distance. "You can stay here as long as you wish. When you're ready, walk back the way we have come. The future will be there for you."

As he moved away, Dean called out. "What about Sam?"

"We'll see."

"Hey, wait!" Dean cried. When the other turned to him, he splayed his hands in exasperation. "Please---tell me---where were _you_ during all this?"

He got a smile in return. "I was right here. I've always been here, Dean." The man nodded, silently prompting Dean to look back the way they'd come. He saw only one set of footprints in the sand, from Sam's giant club feet, not Dean's. It didn't appear that Dean had walked down the beach at all.

Dean couldn't help the bemused chuckle that slipped out. "Oh, come on, that's such a cliché!" When he turned back, he was alone.

He looked back at the past. Sammy and Dean were wrestling playfully, sand and plastic tools flying in every direction. Beyond them, near the road, he noticed someone else. Their dad was standing by the Impala. Dean frowned. He didn't remember his father being there that day; he'd been reading in the car when he and Sammy had headed out. But, sure enough, John was standing there, watching over his children. It looked like he'd been there the whole time.

After only a few minutes, Dean couldn't bear it anymore. He turned and walked down the beach, the way he'd come. It felt like a boulder rested on his chest. He was alone.

A mile down the beach, he reached civilization. A pier, a seaside shack, and the Impala---shinier than she'd been in months---waited for him. Dean ran a hand over her fender. "At least you haven't given up on me, babe."

He dropped into the driver's seat and pushed the key into the ignition more out of instinct than anything else. Then he sat and stared out the windshield, feeling for the first time that he truly had nowhere left to go.

00000

One second Sam was cold and sinking into the dark, the next he was standing on a road. It wasn't a particularly inviting road. The hard-packed dirt was cold beneath his feet, and fog hung low along the ground, obscuring the shrubbery running along the roadside. It was hard to see more than a few yards into the dark woods around him.

Sam paused and turned his attention back to his bare feet, then his hands. The bones had been broken a moment before. He hadn't been able to stand on his own after two days with Meg and her goons. Everything was healed now. He could see clearly, the bloody trails along his chest and stomach from where they'd taken razor blades to him, were gone.

"Where am I?" He muttered quietly.

"The better question is, where will you go?" A voice said from behind him. Sam spun to find Dean there, arms crossed, resting against one of the craggy, dead tree trunks.

"Dean?"

His brother smiled and shrugged. "I have many faces. Will you walk with me, brother?"

He hesitated. It was Dean's face and voice, but…the eyes were different. Bigger, brighter, maybe. Luminous. Not the tired eyes he'd seen on his brother's face for so long. When his eyes met this Dean's, he felt like he was falling toward them.

Sam wasn't sure why he started walking, pacing alongside De---well, whoever it was. He didn't sense any danger, but still, he couldn't quite reason why he wasn't more suspicious. A lot of things that taken his brother's form over the years, usually to Sam's misfortune.

They walked for several minutes before Sam could draw his attention off the ominous landscape. "Where are we?"

"Don't you recognize it?" was the only response. Sam was somewhat alarmed that his walking companion had changed. Adam was beside him, now. Somehow, he understood that it was actually Adam---the brother he'd never really met---and not the ghoul who had replaced him.

Sam frowned and surveyed the gloomy woods again. He gasped. Between the trees, floating in the fog, were images of his life, hovering until he passed, then receding into the mist. The images were all around him, along both sides of the road.

He saw himself as an infant, being put to bed the night Azazel came for him. He saw himself as a child, with Dean in yet another anonymous motel. At eighteen, engaged in a brutal argument with his Dad while Dean watched. The first time he met Jessica. The LSAT. Dean pulling him from his burning apartment. Leaving Sarah. Shooting Madison. Dean bleeding in a jail cell in Colorado. Lilith. Ruby. The Hell Hounds tearing Dean apart. Demon blood. Uriel threatening him. The panic room. Freeing Lucifer. Ellen and Jo. Dean taking him back...it was all there.

It was overwhelming.

The road was his life. This dark, gloomy, death-lined road was his life. But, that might mean--- "Am I dead?"

John replaced Adam. His dad looked at him, face impossible to read. "The road hasn't ended, yet."

Sam looked again. Famine tempting him. Dean making another deal. Zachariah delivering him to Lucifer. Torture when he refused to say yes. Endless pain...but he'd said no. He'd kept saying no. He'd won that last fight. Lucifer killed him for it, but Sam had won.

"Yes, you did," Jess' voice floated to him. Sam felt a chill when he realized that she had responded to his thoughts, not anything he said. She spoke again before he could. "I am so proud of you. Like the willow you bent but did not break."

_Tell that to my bones_, Sam almost retorted, but stopped himself. Of course, she seemed to be reading his mind anyway.

The fog began to thin, the slideshow floating away behind them. Sam tried to wrap his brain around his companion's words. "If...if I'm not dead, then why am I here?"

"I never said you weren't dead."

Sam's brow furrowed. "But, you said the road wasn't over yet...."

"That's true."

"I don't understand."

"That's the problem isn't it?" Pastor Jim took Jess' place. "So much happens to us that we don't understand."

"Who are you?"

A pause. "I think you know."

Oh. Sam blinked. _Oh_. His eyes widened in awe, and he stepped back fearfully until Jim's hand on his shoulder steadied him. Instantly, the fear left him. It was several moments before Sam was able to speak. "Castiel...he found you...?"

"I found him, you could say. Or maybe I found _you_. It doesn't matter, in the end."

"Is it over? Did Michael win?"

"No."

Sam opened his mouth, but the next, panicked question was cut off.

"Dean's fine. Lucifer is dead. The world is safe. You and your brother did it."

Sam shook his head once. "Dean. _Dean _did it."

"Not alone. He needed you, and you were there for him."

"Dean didn't need my help. I'm---just a screwed up addict. Nothing I did mattered."

"You think you're weak. Useless."

"I...yeah, I am."

"You're wrong." Ellen told him, favoring him with a sad smile.

Sam snorted derisively. "I freed Lucifer! I believed a demon's lies and turned on my own brother! Everyone who's died...their blood is on my hands...."

"You must have big hands."

"It isn't funny," Sam retorted, a little petulantly. _How could God makes jokes about this? _"They died because of _my _mistakes."

Viktor Hendrickson crossed his arms, frowning. "For someone who despises Lucifer and his servants as much as you do, you certainly try to steal a lot of credit for _their _deeds."

"What? No. That's not--- I mean---"

"Do you know what I see when I look back, Sam?" His mother asked sternly, pointing back at the ethereal scenes in the mist. Beginning to get used to the rapid changes in appearance, Sam glanced back with a derisive snort.

"A monster who was too stupid to know any better?"

Mary glowered. "A boy trying to find his place, and being pushed and pulled in a dozen different directions by forces he couldn't control."

Sam lowered his head. How could she say that? Was she thinking of someone else? Biting his lip, he glanced up at her furtively. "What---what do you see, now?"

His mother smiled. "A man who could have taken the easy way out, but chose to spit in the serpent's face instead. A strong man, and a loving brother. Team Free Will's star player."

Sam's eyes blurred. It couldn't be that simple. His pitiful resistance at the end couldn't possibly make up for his sins. He'd turned against Dean, sided with a demon. Released Lucifer from Hell…tainted himself with demon blood.

"Everyone has moments of weakness, Sammy," John said quietly, placing his hands on Sam's shoulders. "You had some doozies, but through it all, you were trying to do the right thing. Trying to stop the Apocalypse, not start it. That counts, son. It wasn't your fault that the ones who could have warned you chose not to."

Tears slipped from Sam's eyes. He didn't bother trying to hide them, sinking to his knees. "How can you forgive me?" He wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore, Dad or Dean or…

"We already have. All of us. Even your brother, though he doesn't show it much, yet."

Sam was pulled into an embrace. The image of his dad was complete, right down to the smell of leather and gun oil. Sam hugged him back, and wondered why absolution seemed to hurt ten times worse than the guilt.

"It's supposed to."

He squeezed his eyes shut against his father's shoulder. "You can hear everything I'm thinking…?"

"There are no secrets here, son. That's behind you."

With a sob, Sam pulled back into himself, wrapping his arms over his chest. "What happens now?"

Sam's own voice answered, and he looked up to look himself in the eyes. "Always looking to the future, eh, Sam?"

He glanced over his shoulder. The ghostly scenes from his past were fading, blowing away in a soft breeze that rustled the tree limbs. "Doesn't look like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice," the other Sam said lightly. "In fact, you have one now."

Sam turned, looking ahead on the road. The landscape had changed. Instead of a straight road, it forked. Two old-fashioned covered bridges stood to his left and right. Each of them looked immensely long.

The one of the left was in good repair, painted white, and ended in a bright, golden light, like a sunset. A literal light at the end of the tunnel.

The bridge of the right was worn, falling apart. It seemed to have no end, just darkness as far as his eyes could see, darker even than the gloomy woods around him. Outside, just below the bridge, the faint light of some distant fire glinted off the rotting wood.

The other Sam pointed to that one first. "Two paths, Sam. Down this one lays the path you have already started on. Darkness, pain, blood. Your brother and friends will continue to suffer, as they have suffered. _You_ will continue to suffer, as you have suffered."

It suddenly clicked in Sam's mind what the firelight was. Hell. He was looking further down the road he'd been on since he'd first given in to Ruby.

"Down this one," the other Sam turned to the brighter tunnel. "There is no more pain, no more darkness. All will be forgiven. You will even learn to forgive _yourself_."

Sam looked back and forth between the two paths. The dark one on his right frightened him, sent cold shooting down his spine just looking at it. The bright one on his left was definitely looking more appealing, but….

"So, uh…let me get this straight. Down there," he pointed to the dark tunnel. "I go back to my life, the way I was going," he point to the bright one, "and there, I--- It's…salvation, isn't it? I stay dead."

The other Sam watched where he was pointing, but his face was impassive. Finally, he looked at Sam with an unreadable expression. "I've told you what I can. Free will, Sam. You have to choose your own future; I can't tell you what to do."

Sam turned back, weighing what he'd been told. The cold felt worse now, like he was up to his neck in ice water. "I'm scared."

"The future is always frightening. I wish I could help you more."

His eyes lingered on the dark bridge for a few long minutes, then shifted to the bright one. Sam couldn't go on with his life the way it had been. He didn't want to be scared anymore. He didn't want to hurt Dean anymore. As far as he could tell, choosing the dark tunnel would return him to the life that he had already ruined.

That left the other tunnel. The bright light. Salvation, like he'd wanted for so long. Death. Heaven, maybe. Seemed that way. Sam never would have expected that to be an option for him. Dean would hate him for choosing that. For leaving him. Going down the dark path would reunite him with his brother, but damn him.

It was the hardest decision Sam had ever made.

"I don't want to go on the way I've been going," Sam said quietly. "But, I…don't want to lose my brother."

"Don't worry about Dean," the other Sam told him calmly. "This is your future. It's not selfish. It's a choice you _must_ make for yourself."

Sam closed his eyes, not wanting to choose but knowing he had to. Finally, he nodded, and stepped toward the bridge on the left. He had to pick salvation. He had to get off the path he'd been on since Dean's deal had come due, paved with good intentions though it might have been.

When he opened his eyes again, he was already at the end of the bridge, staring into the blinding golden light. The fear seized him again, along with the overwhelming need to do one last thing.

"Can I say goodbye to Dean, first?" He turned to look behind him.

The road was empty. Sam was alone. He got it. There was no going back. _I ought to be used to that by now_. He nodded to himself. _This is it, then_. There would be no chance to say goodbye. No chance to apologize for his failings. His brother would be left alone. Sam could only hope it was for the best.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Sam stepped into the light.

00000

Dean sat in the Impala for what felt like a long time. The sun was setting. His eyes kept settling on the shack by the pier. He'd seen it somewhere….

The passenger side door opened, making Dean jump. He turned in time to see Sam drop into the seat.

His mouth dropped open. Sam sat for a few seconds, then frowned and looked around like he didn't know where he was. A pair of confused eyes landed on him, then widened.

"Dean?" Sam spoke his name like it was a prayer. Dean didn't know what to make of that. All he knew was that his brother was alive…and sitting beside him.

Dean scooped Sam up and hugged him tight. "Sammy…."

His brother hesitantly returned the embrace, but Dean felt Sam's chin digging into his shoulder as he turned his head back and forth.

"This is…not what I was expecting," Sam said slowly, sounding utterly bewildered.

Dean released him, unable to keep the grin off his face, and sat back. "What do you mean?"

Sam frowned, feeling the seat leather and the dashboard, obviously trying to get his bearings. "I was just…somewhere. It was dark…and…there was a light. I--- I think I was dead."

"You remember?" Dean asked, anxiously.

"There was a tunnel, and a light…you know, just like the movies," Sam continued. "It was…warm, and I stepped into it…and then…this. I was here."

He didn't know what to say to that. Sam shook his head, frown turning into a bemused smirk. "Is this…? I mean…Heaven is the _Impala_?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, biting back his amused thought: _of course it is_! Sam had asked a great question. He remembered stepping off the beach. He remembered talking to…someone, then getting in the car. Glancing to his left, he saw the shack again and suddenly it clicked, like a light turning on.

It was the seaside shack in Delaware. Home of the best hamburgers Dean had ever eaten.

It was also closed. Boarded up. Looked like it had been abandoned for years.

"No, dude. I don't think this is Heaven…."

Sam followed his gaze, but didn't seem to comprehend what Dean saw. "Lucifer…he killed me, didn't he?"

Dean's mood darkened as the memory came back. He nodded. Sam seemed to need a moment to soak it in.

"What happened?"

"You said no," Dean explained, a note of deeply felt pride coloring his voice. "You said no, Sammy, and you spit in his face---which, I gotta say, was awesome, man. He was pretty pissed, and…he…."

"Yeah…I remember some of that," Sam murmured. "I'd hoped you hadn't seen that."

Dean's cell buzzed in his pocket. He glanced apologetically at Sam as he fished it out. "The rest is…really crazy. Hang on--- Hello?"

"_Dean? What did you do?_"

"Bobby?" His friend sounded odd. He was either furious or ecstatic. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the older hunter.

"_My legs, Dean. I was rolling to get my phone, and all of a sudden…I just…stood up_."

_Holy crap_. Dean hesitated. "That's…wow, Bobby. I don't know what to say."

"_Well, I do, boy. It's a freakin' miracle. Whatever you and Sam did…thank you_."

"Bobby---"

"_I mean it, son. From the bottom of my heart_."

Dean didn't say anything. Their friend was healed. He couldn't ask anything more than that, even if he didn't understand it.

"_Now, get your butts back here. I wanna know everything!_" The call ended abruptly.

"Dean?" Sam called, staring at him in confusion. Dean glanced at him, a smile tugging at his face.

"Bro, I think we _won_."

00000

Sam sat on the edge of Bobby's porch, watching Cheney rip into a T- bone. He nursed a beer in one hand, mainly in an attempt to lessen the intense hangover he had from the previous night's victory celebration.

He was at a loss to explain any of what had happened. Dean had filled him in on what he missed---including meeting God after Michael had fallen. How crazy was that? Sam was remembering bits and pieces. Faces. A few phrases. But, whatever had happened to him after Lucifer struck him down was still a mystery, for the most part.

Mainly he felt like an immense weight had been lifted. Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so…free.

The front door opened, and Dean stepped out, sipping from his own beer. He walked over and plopped down beside Sam, holding the bottle out. Sam clinked his against Dean's. His brother was happier than he'd been since…before. Before Ruby. Before Hell. It was so contagious that it made Sam happy just being next to him.

Which made what he needed to say even more important.

"Dean, we need to talk."

His brother's smile slipped fractionally. "That…sounds bad."

Sam couldn't help but grin. "No. It's not! Dean…it's gone."

Dean's smile was returning, mainly out of reflex. He was clearly confused. "What?"

"The blood. The addiction. It's gone! I can feel it."

"Really?"

Sam nodded, smiling so intensely he started to tear up. He _was_ free. At last.

"Well, this calls for celebration, bro!" Dean crowed. "What are you doing out here?"

"I just…I'm just trying to take it in, you know?" Sam sputtered. He wasn't sure what it meant or how or why, all he knew was he wanted to jump for freakin' joy. "I mean, what does it mean? I'm cured, I know, but…what do we do now?"

Dean pursed his lips, frowning in concentration, then he grinned again. "Karaoke."

"What?"

"I don't know, Sammy. We have to decide if we're gonna keep hunting, or retire, or whatever…but that's tomorrow! Today is our victory lap."

Dean held out his bottle again. "To the future, little brother."

Sam accepted the toast with a wide grin. Dean was right. Tomorrow.

"To the future."

END


End file.
